Jillian Hart Read Online Free
Author: Sara's Gift (A Christmas Novella)
Sara ever being there."
"She wasn't. She was probably home doing the work." Connie's voice rang low with contempt for a man who would treat his own child so harshly. "It still makes me furious that cruel people can have children they don't value, but that you and Ann went so long without a baby to call your own."
"We got Mary, and she made up for all that waiting and heartbreak." Gabe thanked his sister for the bowl of oatmeal she set before him.
"It's snowin' buckets and buckets." Mary dashed into the kitchen, her eyes shining. "When can we build snowmen, Pa, like we did yesterday? I wanna go now."
"Not until that wind dies down." Gabe patted the chair next to him. "Now sit on down and have some oatmeal. We have a lot of planning and shopping left to do before Christmas."
"We have to hurry. I wanna pick out my new dress first thing."
Gabe grabbed a jar of huckleberry preserves from the shelf behind him and broke the seal. "I don't remember saying you could have a new dress."
"Oh, Pa, you're not one bit funny."
While Mary shook her head, he plopped the jar on the table beside her. The scent of the sweet wild berries enticed her to pick up her spoon.
Gabe caught Connie's laughing gaze over the platter of bacon and eggs. The table had been set for five, the empty chair and plate reminding him of the woman upstairs—Sara Reece Mercer—and her sad eyes and quiet manner.
Looking after her welfare last night had left a warm spot in his chest, just a small one, but it was enough to force him to remember what it was like to hold a door for a lady or help her from a sleigh. He had been a widower a long time, and he had grieved Ann truly and well, but Mary needed a mother and he was a lonely man.
He cast his gaze to the generous window above the kitchen pump. He watched the snow fall steadily at a mean angle from the driving wind. Had to be over a new foot since last night. The train wasn't going to arrive today or anytime soon if this storm didn't end.
His gaze flicked to the stairs, the banister just visible from where he sat, and his heart picked up a quicker pace remembering Sara Mercer's gentle beauty.
Sara hesitated on the top step, startled by the rumble of voices coming from the kitchen below.
"Shopping?" a man's low voice rang with humor. "Are you going to make me suffer through another round of shopping? I think I have to work."
"You can't squirm out of this one, brother," Connie's merry voice answered.
How happy they sounded. If Gabe was here, then maybe his wife was too. This was a family, laughing over breakfast, for Sara could smell the aroma of fresh fried eggs and bacon, the sweet scent of tea and the deeper harshness of boiled coffee.
She had no right to intrude. She had never meant to wedge her way into the middle of the Chapman family.
"But, Pa, you gotta see my new dress," a child's bright voice pleaded, sweet like melody, merry as song.
Gabe Chapman's answer faded against the buzzing in her ears. Sara grabbed the rail, already stepping forward, hungry to hear more of the happy child's voice.
"Oh, Pa, I still gotta pick out a new ribbon."
"What? Don't you have enough ribbons? I suppose you want another hair clip too."
"And maybe new shoes."
"Shoes?" Gabe's protest sounded like nothing she'd ever heard before, not from a grown man and father. Warm as cocoa, rich as cream, brimming with love.
During all the long nights of worrying and wondering, she had never imagined something so wonderful for her helpless baby. A terrible ache tore through Sara's heart, so big and grateful it hurt. All the days of living without Mary in her arms was worth it to know she was so well treated.
"I think I hear a footstep on the stairs." Gabe's words broke through her thoughts.
Sara blinked. She was halfway down the staircase. Heavens, what did she do now? She had imagined being alone and unnoticed when she took the first look at her daughter, maybe from the street watching the child at play or shopping with
"She wasn't. She was probably home doing the work." Connie's voice rang low with contempt for a man who would treat his own child so harshly. "It still makes me furious that cruel people can have children they don't value, but that you and Ann went so long without a baby to call your own."
"We got Mary, and she made up for all that waiting and heartbreak." Gabe thanked his sister for the bowl of oatmeal she set before him.
"It's snowin' buckets and buckets." Mary dashed into the kitchen, her eyes shining. "When can we build snowmen, Pa, like we did yesterday? I wanna go now."
"Not until that wind dies down." Gabe patted the chair next to him. "Now sit on down and have some oatmeal. We have a lot of planning and shopping left to do before Christmas."
"We have to hurry. I wanna pick out my new dress first thing."
Gabe grabbed a jar of huckleberry preserves from the shelf behind him and broke the seal. "I don't remember saying you could have a new dress."
"Oh, Pa, you're not one bit funny."
While Mary shook her head, he plopped the jar on the table beside her. The scent of the sweet wild berries enticed her to pick up her spoon.
Gabe caught Connie's laughing gaze over the platter of bacon and eggs. The table had been set for five, the empty chair and plate reminding him of the woman upstairs—Sara Reece Mercer—and her sad eyes and quiet manner.
Looking after her welfare last night had left a warm spot in his chest, just a small one, but it was enough to force him to remember what it was like to hold a door for a lady or help her from a sleigh. He had been a widower a long time, and he had grieved Ann truly and well, but Mary needed a mother and he was a lonely man.
He cast his gaze to the generous window above the kitchen pump. He watched the snow fall steadily at a mean angle from the driving wind. Had to be over a new foot since last night. The train wasn't going to arrive today or anytime soon if this storm didn't end.
His gaze flicked to the stairs, the banister just visible from where he sat, and his heart picked up a quicker pace remembering Sara Mercer's gentle beauty.
Sara hesitated on the top step, startled by the rumble of voices coming from the kitchen below.
"Shopping?" a man's low voice rang with humor. "Are you going to make me suffer through another round of shopping? I think I have to work."
"You can't squirm out of this one, brother," Connie's merry voice answered.
How happy they sounded. If Gabe was here, then maybe his wife was too. This was a family, laughing over breakfast, for Sara could smell the aroma of fresh fried eggs and bacon, the sweet scent of tea and the deeper harshness of boiled coffee.
She had no right to intrude. She had never meant to wedge her way into the middle of the Chapman family.
"But, Pa, you gotta see my new dress," a child's bright voice pleaded, sweet like melody, merry as song.
Gabe Chapman's answer faded against the buzzing in her ears. Sara grabbed the rail, already stepping forward, hungry to hear more of the happy child's voice.
"Oh, Pa, I still gotta pick out a new ribbon."
"What? Don't you have enough ribbons? I suppose you want another hair clip too."
"And maybe new shoes."
"Shoes?" Gabe's protest sounded like nothing she'd ever heard before, not from a grown man and father. Warm as cocoa, rich as cream, brimming with love.
During all the long nights of worrying and wondering, she had never imagined something so wonderful for her helpless baby. A terrible ache tore through Sara's heart, so big and grateful it hurt. All the days of living without Mary in her arms was worth it to know she was so well treated.
"I think I hear a footstep on the stairs." Gabe's words broke through her thoughts.
Sara blinked. She was halfway down the staircase. Heavens, what did she do now? She had imagined being alone and unnoticed when she took the first look at her daughter, maybe from the street watching the child at play or shopping with
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